Walking the gardens of Green Gulch, with my dear daughter, I am struck by the perfection of the moment.
She is soon to leave for a long stay abroad, and my delight is tainted with sadness. I wish I could suspend time. Mindful mind steps in. Clinging. I am suffering from clinging. To not be attached and go against the reality of impermanence. Or else the pure sweetness will give way to a bitter taste. I decide to be fully present, instead. Listen to what she has to say, and marvel with her about the beautiful patterns of the multicolored lettuces. And breathe, and lock my steps into hers.
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